The Fundamental Things Apply
by piper maru duchovny
Summary: She wants to have more than Paris with him, she wants forever. - Casablanca Night at the Old Haunt. Set after '47 Seconds'.


**A/N: The general idea for this fic has been in my head since Castle first bought the Old Haunt but it was brought to fruition by 47 Seconds. I hope you enjoy - oh, for added enjoyment listen to You & I by Lady Gaga whilst reading because it was listened to on repeat while I wrote.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing and wish to gain no profit.**

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><p><em>This time I'm not leaving without you,<em>  
><em>Sit back down where you belong,<em>  
><em>In the corner of my bar with your high heels on<em>  
><em>-Lady Gaga<em>

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><p>He's leaning against the bar with an old fedora dipping low across his line of sight and pin striped suit jacket open as he takes a long pull off his tumbler filled with whiskey that burns all the way down. She sheds her coat at the door and hands it off to the attendant, floor length gown free of the confines, moving gracefully, and she dips her head to the side as her eyes trail over the man at the bar. Her teeth sink into her lower lip as fire courses through her veins, her feet carrying her across the floor on their own volition. His jaw slacks when she grows close and he leans over her shoulder, soft lips brushing gently against the shell of her ear as he speaks. "You look beautiful."<p>

She licks her lips and then arches onto the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear. "You look good too, Rick."

"I didn't think you'd show." He pulls back but the tips of his fingers catch on the fabric of her dress, pulling her imperceptibly closer. "Kate, I..."

"Not tonight." She shakes her head and one of her perfectly coiffed curls fall from her up 'do. "Tonight... only the fundamental things apply."

"As Time Goes By?"

"You're the one who came up with _Casablanca_ night."

He motions for the barkeep to bring him a refill and one for the lady as she slides delicately onto the stool beside him. "The Old Haunt wears it well, don't you think?"

"Mmm." She uses the heel of her stiletto to pivot around on the swiveling seat as she takes in the refurbished bar; a baby grand sits in the corner and a hired pianist plays an old, familiar tune while he's added authentic gambling tables to fit the theme of the evening, and everyone is decked to the nines in fancy gowns and suits. "It really does. All that's missing is the air raid sirens."

"No one to close the streets down for the city wide curfew." He agrees and tips his freshened drink to her. "Here's looking at you, kid."

"I always hated _Casablanca_." She admits.

"The lack of a happy ending?" He surmises and she nods. "They'll always have Paris, Kate."

"They could have had forever, Rick." The way she says his name is like a stab directly to the heart. He watches her take a long drink and how she closes her eyes when it sets her belly on fire, his pinky dares to curl around hers in the space between their seats.

"Maybe they did." When she doesn't pull away from his touch, he curls his finger around hers. "Maybe after the war was over Rick and Sam moved back to the states and bought a bar in lower Manhattan. One night Ilsa, this time with no significant other, walks in and Sam plays their song. Don't give up on their happy ending."

She wants to fire back that he gave up on their happy ending but bites her tongue and finishes her drink. Tonight isn't going to be for fighting, she's determined; they haven't seen each other in two weeks and they'd spent the days leading up to the fallout screaming at each other for things beyond their control. She's finished with arguing. It's too exhausting to fight with him and all it does is bring pain without resolution.

He nods his head toward her empty glass. "Want another?"

"No." Her voice almost disappears into the mere inches between them.

His stomach clenches painfully. "Are you going to leave?"

"No." She echoes and then dares to tilt her head and look up at him through long eyelashes. "Dance with me?"

"Always."

His words reverberate through her and a lump in her throat threatens to ruin her evening over that single word, that word that once meant a thousand promises they couldn't voice. The ground beneath them is shaken and threatening to fall apart, letting them free fall to their deaths, the ending of whatever they were. She wanted to hang onto him with both hands but was terrified that he'd shake her loose and let her go because the pain was too much. She is so damn sick of the pain, the fear, all of it. She wants her happy ending back. She wants 'always' to still mean always. She wants him.

He leads her out onto the small dance floor by the piano and nods his head at the man who gently segues from the classical piece he was playing to the old, gentle melody. She steps close to him as one hand finds her waist and hers finds a home on his shoulder, his other pulling hers up as they sway in a circular motion. Her chin rests just to the right of her palm and she sings softly under her breath to the song from the movie soundtrack. Their movements are comfortable and she falls into him, he embraces her, and they meld together as if they had been made to be pressed together as they spin around on the makeshift dance floor. His lips ghost over her temple and lightning races down her spine. "Moonlight and love songs – never out of date, Hearts full of passion – jealousy and hate, Woman needs a man – and man must have his mate, that no one can deny."

"It's still the same old song," his voice joins her's in a soft whisper. "A fight for love and glory, a case of do or die, the world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by."

The song comes to it's natural end and still they stay, swaying to the music as couples come and go. There's so much that needs to be said and so much that is better left unspoken, she doesn't know where to begin and he's unsure of how to start. He tucks a stray chocolate curl behind her ear and smiles, a small and almost sad smile, down at her. She sucks in a breath and only lets it out once her lungs begin to burn. "I should... I should go."

"Kate." His voice stops her and she looks up at him with pleading eyes - make a decision, Rick. "The fundamental things apply, right?"

"Right." Her voice is a soft whimper as he tilts his head to kiss her. Their lips fuse; her hand trails over the bit of stubble on his chin and curls gently around his neck, resting just beneath the ear she's so fond of twisting. He undoes the clip that's holding all her curls in place and tangles his finger in the mess of them, pulling her flush against him. Their bodies have stilled on the dance floor but their lips tango, tongues fighting the war for them, as the storm that's been brewing between them for two weeks finally breaks and their pain alleviates. They separate long after the call for oxygen has come and she leans her forehead against his as they gasp for air. She dares to ask the question, "A kiss is just a kiss?"

"With you, never." He trails his thumb over the strong line of her jaw as tears blur her vision. "I don't want to only have Paris, Kate, I want forever."

"I love you, Rick."

He smiles into another kiss. "I love you, Kate. Always."

They turn their heads to the pianist with smiles on their faces. "Play it, Sam."

And the song begins again.


End file.
